Travel special: Incredible journeys

The passenger from hell

The most embarrassing journey I have ever made was to see the England football team take on Israel in the Ramat Gan Stadium in Tel Aviv. This was last year, when we still had a chance of qualifying for Euro 2008.

I had managed to snag myself a Club Class ticket on British Airways, which was a relief, given the antics of England's Barmy Army in the back of the plane, and found myself sitting next to a middle-aged man reading a self-help book. 'Probably an American businessman,' I thought to myself. 'I hope to God he doesn't try and strike up a conversation.'

Once we were airborne, a man appeared beside me clutching a piece of paper and shuffling from foot to foot.

'Sorry to disturb,' he said. 'I don't suppose I could trouble you for an autograph?'

'Of course,' I said, reaching for the piece of paper. 'Who shall I make it out to?'

'Not you,' said the man. 'Him.'

The person sitting next to me duly obliged, and as he signed his name I peered over his shoulder, curious to see who it was. I couldn't make it out.

After the autograph hunter had returned to his seat, I continued to stare at this mysterious celebrity, searching his face for clues. Then the penny dropped: it was Glenn Hoddle, the former England manager. He must have noticed the light bulb appearing above my head because at precisely that moment he cast his eyes down and pretended to be absorbed in his book. No doubt he was thinking: 'Please God, don't let this plonker in a cross of St George T-shirt talk to me.'

'So, Mr Hoddle,' I said, virtually leaning over and snapping his book shut, 'why do players who perform brilliantly at a club level stop trying when they put on an England shirt?'

'But in today's Daily Mail,' I said, waving the paper in his face, 'Rio Ferdinand's agent says the reason England failed to make an impression in the World Cup is because the players only gave 30 per cent.'

He gave a snort of derision.

'Are you talking about Pini Zahavi?'

I scanned the paper. 'Yes,' I said.

'See that six-year-old over there?' he said, pointing out a little girl across the aisle. 'I'd rather ask her opinion than Pini Zahavi's.'

This wasn't going as well as I'd hoped. It was time to steer the conversation on to safer ground. The essential thing was to impress him with my intimate knowledge of the game. Once he realised I was a true fan, he'd relax.

'So,' I said, trying to sound authoritative, 'why has McClaren left Paul Scholes out of the squad? That has got to be a textbook error.'

'I wouldn't say that,' he replied. 'Scholes announced his retirement from international football in 2004.'

'Ah, right, yes, I see.'

I racked my brains, desperately trying to think of a decent player who was eligible for the squad but who McClaren had failed to select.

'What about Craig Bellamy?' I said. 'I know he's a bit of a bad boy, but he could cause Israel's defence some real problems.'

'I agree with you,' he said. 'The problem is, Bellamy is Welsh.'

With that, the former England manager returned to his self-help book.

England ended up drawing nil-nil with Israel. It was a dismal, shameful performance, but it wasn't nearly as embarrassing as my conversation with Glenn Hoddle.